


[Insert Creative Title]

by homerun_child



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Humanstuck, Karkat is lonely, Multi, Post-Apocalypse, and has no hope whatsoever, this is gonna be a trainwreck just wait and see
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-10-31 07:04:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10894218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/homerun_child/pseuds/homerun_child
Summary: Karkat Vantas is a guy who is absolutely living the life™. The life of someone who is pretty sure everyone else on Earth is dead at least. That is until...one day.(This is in it's beta form right now!)





	[Insert Creative Title]

**Author's Note:**

> HNNNG. This is a fic that I have been working on for a while now. Sorry if anything is wrong with it, like spelling or something. I'm actually pretty nervous about posting this. Like I said in the summary, this is in it's beta form right now! I also have no idea where its going! Ahahaha.

The hooded figure of a person sat on his knees, the torn fabric of his old jeans not protecting him in any way or form from the rough floor. His dirty fingers brushing random objects to the side in a slow, lazy like manner. His maroon red eyes were narrowed and scrutinizing, searching through anything that might have been of importance. The room he was currently in was completely covered in debris in dust. Sometimes, he began wheezing and hacking. 

His findings so far were actually pretty good for how torn up this place looks. He had come in here thinking it would be void of any useful supplies, the building did look completely demolished from the view he had at the front of it. So far, on his Useful Stuff™ list: three cans of Spaghettios, a scratchy blanket made of torn and wiry fabric, some nasty looking red fabric, and and the twisted and slightly bloody frame of a pair of glasses.   

To be completely honest, he did not want to take the glasses. He feels like he’s possibly disrespecting someone by doing that. However, he could probably recycle the cracked lenses and twisted frames into something more useful...but that still did not make him feel any better about taking it. He just hoped that the owner, wherever they may be, does not mind. God forbid a ghost comes to haunt his already cursed ass.

He probably should get going anyway. He was beginning to feel fatigue settle over him like a heavy blanket. In addition, from the glance he just stole out one of the broken windows, the sun should be coming up soon. He’s always felt safer traveling at night, for whatever reason. Maybe its for the sake of staying hidden, hiding from anything that might try to cross paths with him. Another con of trying to stay in this crappy broken down supermarket is the dust. There was not a single part of this place that was not covered in a thin layer of dust. All this dust will probably kill him if he stays any longer, if his wheezing coughs had any say in this. 

He shifted over to what he hoped was his last pile. It was slightly smaller than the rest, thank fuck. Sadly, like the other piles, it was covered in a layer of dust. Just what he needed right now. He felt his life leave his body, his face paling. So much dust in one place. He’s probably gonna get some kind of deadly plague or something like that. Deciding to just rip off the metaphorical bandaid, he blew the dust off the pile. Bad idea, it got in his eyes and some even got in his mouth. Why must Earth hate him?

Whatever, time to get to the plot says the author as she throws her limp body down the stairs, carrying her laptop with her.

His lips pursed into a thin line, eyes narrowing slightly in the intensity of searching through a pile of trash and debris. The intensity of the moment vanished completely when his eyes widened incredibly wide, his thick eyebrows rising up and nearly disappearing. His chapped lips parting and hanging open slightly, only a tiny gasping scream coming out of them though.  

What in the name of the everloving fucking christ is this bullshit supposed to be. He wrapped his bony fingers around a small, black box and rolled it between his hands lightly. It was just wide enough to fit in the palm of his hand, no matter how small his hand is. The box look smooth, and that was what it was. Is that...is that a cord with it too? No fucking way. 

He feels like it could have been a trap. The portable phone charger is a lie!. Alternatively, this piece of junk could be broken. I mean, if you would look around at the current state of the rest of the building, it wouldn’t be a shocker. He decided that he should shake it by his ear, because part of him felt like that should somehow prove if it works or not. When he heard nothing ominously rattle inside of it, he felt the first shining ray of hope in what felt like years. Actually, what probably has been years. He lost track ages ago.

He shoved it in his almost useless bag; if the charger does not work, he can make something else out of it. Recycling is important kids! He has been hanging onto his phone with a slight hope that somehow, it will work. Now he has a good chance to see if it is still working. He just has to carefully work his way back home and not drop his bag or something like that. He has done it a million times before, and he can still do it now. There’s no doubt that he will make it home just fine, all in one piece. So he stood up, dusted his aching knees off and headed out. As soon as he reached the broken pavement of the streets, he sprinted at full speed down the familiar, empty roads.  

He hoped that he could find some new footwear soon. Even just socks are better than the ones he has right now, which are falling apart. New shoes will make the trips to the city so much easier. Maybe he can find one of those shoe shops hidden around town? He can only hope.  Anything can happen it seems, as he just found a phone charger. Perhaps, he could still have some hope? He felt a small smile spread across his cheeks as he sprinted along down the silent roads of what once was Houston, Texas.


End file.
